


Getaway

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Established Relationship, F/M, Getaway Car, Heist, I Don't Even Know, Las Vegas, Light Angst, Ocean's 8 Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sansa Stark looked beautiful as blonde.





	Getaway

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: All characters belong to George R.R Martin.  
> Inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘Getaway Car’, and watching the trailer for Ocean’s 8.  
> Feedback is welcome.

Sansa Stark looked beautiful as blonde. 

Her hair was shoulder length, and a blonde so light it was almost white; a perfect contrast to the black dress she wore. A jacket was somewhere in the backseat, or on the floor, or in the ridiculous red Hermes Bag she carried, it made no difference to Sandor. She was still beautiful. 

Looking at her from the corner of his eye, Sandor reached out a hand and tapped her slouched from. Sansa was leaning against the open window with her hand outstretched, moving her fingers and giggling at the feel of the wind against her skin. 

“You better not sleep on me, girl. I need to know where we are going.”

“Portland,” she replied with a smile. But that smile, knowing and mischievous, was not her smile. Or maybe it always was and Sandor had never noticed.

The passenger window was down and the wind blew her hair around her face. It was a beautiful sight, too beautiful, and Sandor forgot about the road ahead of them. 

“You’re going to get us killed.” Sansa said with a laugh when the tire left the pavement and kicked up a could of red Nevada dust. “We runaway the first thing you do is try to kill us. Do you hate me that much?”

“I could never hate you.” Not even now, he wanted to add but instead turned back to the road, looked at the dashboard and hoped there was a gas station near. 

“Really?” She asked in fake disbelief; eyes widened and mouth upturned into a smirk. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want,” he muttered. “Running low on gas. We’re going to need to stop and refill.”

The drive from Las Vegas had gone uninterrupted, with the exception of switching cars and going through a drive-thru for food. Those were the only two times she had spoken him prior to this moment, a stark contrast to the way she would chirp at him before, but he could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move but always retuning to his face.

He had asked why she kept looking at him, asked when her fear of him had gone away, but was always answered by shrugs and sly smiles, or she would hum and tap her fingers against the window. When he would return her stare, expecting her to look away and blush as she had always done, she would stare back, unflinching and with a smile, and would raise an eyebrow as if challenging him to look away.

He always did, and he would hear a snort when he did.

“There’s a gas station ahead,” he continued. “We’ll fill up there and should be able to make it to Oregon with that.”

“As you wish.” 

Stretching, she arched her back towards the window until her hands and head were out the window. Sandor wanted to reached out and pull her back in, to prevent her from falling, but instead kept his hands to himself and contented himself with watching her out of the corner of his eye. Sansa had done the same thing numerous times before since they left Las Vegas, and the first time he had yanked her in. And he had stopped the car and berated her for doing something so stupid and dangerous and so damn reckless. 

But Sansa had only laughed and, her hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling towards her, said in a whisper, “It feels of freedom.” 

Sandor had nothing to say to that. Who was he to deny her that? 

* * *

 

“Don’t do anything stupid. Go, get whatever you need, pay and come back.”

“Of course.” Sansa replied with a smile and roll of her eyes.

“I serious, Sansa. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

He hated her attitude. It was nothing like the demure, polite one she had carried herself with in Vegas and around the Lannisters. Now she was careless. She would laugh at his every suggestion, giggle at the slightest thing, and look at him with light expressionless eyes even when her lips, painted the deepest red he had seen, almost the color of blood, were upturned into a smile. 

Sansa had jumped into his car and screamed at him to go, laughing all the while the sound of sirens sounded off behind her. Sandor hadn’t questioned her, so did as he was asked. Maybe something happened the casino; a Lannister hurt, her life in danger, or maybe she finally had enough of Joffery and she took the celebration party as a way to leave.

Whatever it was, he drove. And he hadn’t asked her what had happened. Not even when she crawled onto the passenger seat with phone in hand and asked him to drive her to Oregon, or when she asked for his only to slam it down on the open window and throw it out when he handed it over to her, all without a question. He didn’t ask her about the red bag she had dug through with a self-satisfied smile, nor why she chucked the giant diamond ring she had worn on into the desert as he drove. 

And Sandor didn’t want to. He had once told himself that if he ever got the chance, he would protect her, protect her with every fiber of his being, and never let go until she wanted. And he wasn’t going to let go. 

Sandor watched her walk into the gas station, and then kept sight of the blonde head of hair through the window, a sad, cracked thing being held together by gray duct tape. The gas nuzzle clicked at the same time she approached the counter, bags of chips and bottles of water in her arms. 

Getting back into the car, Sandor turned the ignition and waited for her. They would need to stop again, somewhere in Oregon, and after that they should be near Portland. He didn’t know what awaited her there, why she would want to go there out of all places, but he was going to get her there. No questions asked. After that, after that he would do something. He didn’t know yet, but he would do something. He was finally away from the Lannisters, and while he was certain the peace wouldn’t last for long, that sooner to later they would hunt both of them down, he was going to enjoy that little moment of freedom.

It was the sound of the backdoor being slammed shut that dragged him out of his thoughts and her shouting at him once more to go, go, go. 

He didn’t think about it. Switching the gears, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and drove to the sound of her laughter coming from the back seat. He saw stuff both hands into the red bag through the rearview mirror and zip it back up when she was done. Sandor hadn’t asked her about the contents of the bag but he could guess what was in it now. 

“I asked you not to do anything stupid.”

Sansa shrugged. “It wasn’t stupid. I thought through it clearly and did it. And I didn’t get caught.”

Sandor get out a frustrated sighed and clenched his hands tighter around the steering wheel. “You could have been shot. Some cashiers carry guns, don’t you know that?” No answer. “What if you had gotten shot? What then?”

“Depends on where he shot me.”

He slammed on the brakes and turned around to face her, hand braced on the side of the passenger seat. “Is this some game to you? Do you think this funny, this robbing and stealing off in a car?”

Sansa didn’t answer, only stared back at him with the same laughing smile and dead eyes she now carried. 

“Answer me, damn it.” He growled. 

“Why the chirping? We were having such a pleasant drive.” She said it a melodramatic sigh, and he knew there was no point in talking to her. 

They drove in silence, the only sound coming from the radio. 

Sandor kept focus on the black road under him, yellow lines and red dirt flashed past him, and ignored the girl in the backseat. He didn’t even move when she squeezed herself between the seats and took her place on the passenger seat, feet under her and head and arm sticking out the window. 

_Bright light city gonna set my soul_

Sansa’s voice sounded over the wind rushing in. It was the same sweet voice from before; the voice he always heard coming from her bedroom as he walked the halls of the Lannister estate, or from the middle row of seats when he drove her around in the sleek, black SUV with tinted windows and leather seats that smell brand new. 

_Gonna set my soul on fire_

_Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn_

Sansa kept singing, and Sandor turned down the volume of the radio. And when she was done paying her homage to Elvis and Las Vegas, she turned it back up to the station she had chosen and listened to her sing along to that. 

She didn’t have the careless expression that she had worn for the majority of their trip when she sang. When she sang her eyes stayed cast down and the fingers that played with the wind stayed still on her knees, now drawn up and held tightly to her chest. 

“Why are you helping me?”

She broke the silence and looked over at him an expectant look. 

“If I answer, will you tell me what happened back at the casino?” He retorted.

“No.” There was no hesitation in her response; it even overlapped his. 

It was silence again until he felt the car jerk under him and his eyes snapped open. Sansa’s hand was holding onto the steering wheel, right above his hand, and closeness of it, of her as she leaned into him to keep the car straight, was too much. 

“You need to sleep.” She said in a soft tone, almost caring and so like the naturally polite tone she used to have. “There’s a hotel a few miles ahead.” 

Rolling down the windows, cold air flooded into the heated car and bristled his skin, sending a shock through his body and keeping him awake. 

He only rented one room. He didn’t trust her to not run off in the middle of the night, to call a taxi or talk another renter to drive her the rest of the way. He wanted to trust her, to think of her as the same naive and innocent girl he had seen hanging off the arm of Joffery Baratheon, or looking at him with curious and kind eyes, but Sansa Stark did not have didn’t have a self-confident aura to her, or a sultry smile that could charm anyone. And Sansa Stark did not have ice, cold eyes. 

The small television in the room was on, the news channel barely audible, but audible enough. 

_Police investigating the incident are asking for any information surrounding the robbery at the Bellagio Hotel and Casino. The robbery occurred Saturday night during the inauguration of the hotel. Neither the police nor the casino have disclosed the amount stolen._

No sign of emotion betrayed her face, Sandor noticed. He knew it was her, her and someone else because a job like that required teamwork and planning and time. She had to have had all of those. 

But if she did, than why was she here with him now? Where had it gone wrong that she needed him to be her getaway car? 

“Who helped you?” Removing shoes and shirt, he stared to unbuckle his belt and strip of his jeans. She kept her eyes trained on him, fingers not once pausing as she worked on her hand, but the smile she had worn before was wiped off and instead there was a hesitant look to her, as if she wanted to reach out and touch him but was afraid to.

“With what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, girl. You wouldn’t haven’t jumped into the first car you saw if you weren’t running from someone.” 

“I get into your car and ask you to drive, and you assume I robbed a casino?” Stripping the out of the dress, she tossed it onto the armchair in the corner to join the white heels she had been wearing and the brown leather jacket that Sandor knew was his. “That doesn’t seem wise. And why would I need to rob a casino? I’m Stark that was to marry a Baratheon, I don’t exactly lack for money.”

Pulling the bed sheets back, Sansa sat and brought them up to her waist. Smooth, white skin, unmarred except for the faint raised line under her breast, filled Sandor’s sight. And he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. Black lace contrasted against her skin, holding up the roundness of her breasts and cupping the perfection that was her arse. 

“And where would I put the money? I’m not exactly lugging around millions in a bag.” 

His eyes flickered over to the Hermes, eliciting a laugh from Sansa. 

“You can look through it if you want. Nothing interesting in there.” Leaving the bed, she went to the chair without the slightest bit of shame and picked up the bag. Carrying it over, she deposited it at the foot of the bed and dumped it. 

Three black cases, two long and thin, and one a large square, fell out. Sandor didn’t have to open them to know what stye contained. He had seem plenty of Lannister wealth to know what was inside, but Sansa opened them either way. 

Placing the necklace against her neck, a pyramid of diamond drops stung on a silver chain, she asked, “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” The watch was a delicate, golden thing, but the last container didn’t belong with the others. It was simple necklace; a thin silver chain with a pendant hanging on it. 

Sandor knew what was on the pendant, after all, he had given it to her. 

“This one is my favorite.” Sansa continued. Pulling out a final case, the same size as the necklace container, she opened it revel a three strand pearl necklace with an emerald and diamond clasp. 

Reaching out, Sandor took the case from her and looked it for the first time. She had seen around the neck of Cersei Lannister countless of times, but he had never been able to look at it up close. Dogs weren't meant to touch millions worth of pearls.

“It was a scam.” He said with a realization. “The whole time you were with Joffery, acting the innocent child, acting as if you didn’t understand the world, it was a lie, wasn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Taking a step towards her, the jewelry forgotten, he walked towards her until the back of her knees hit the bed and she feel backwards, the necklace sliding off her neck. Climbing over her, hands on either side of her head and legs on either side of her waist, her eyes boring back into his, narrowed into slits. And that was enough answer for him. 

“You needed him to like you, believe you stupid enough so that if he showed you the vaults and codes and the floor plans, even his mother’s jewelry, he would never think you smart enough to actually rob him. So, tell me,” he continued, moving his hand until it cupped her throat, thumb tightly under her jaw, “who helped you, and why did you come running to me?”

“Do you want their names, or is the term 'friends' enough?” A chuckled emanated from his chest, but the way he tilted her head up silenced her mocking tone. “Margery, Daenerys, Myranda and Missandei. Mya and Arya were on the outside, waiting.”

“And,” he prompted.

Her hands moved and reached up to land on his shoulder. He stiffened at the movement but stayed in place, even when they roamed up the expanse of his throat and grip his face, pulling it closer to hers. 

“Weren’t you tired? Tired of being treated as nothing more than a dog? Of being that close to them, or seeing everything they have and do, and hear everything they say, and know that you will never, _never_ have half of what they have, nor will you ever be treated as nothing more than a body to scare of the rest?”

Now it was her turn to trap him. Brushing the stray hands of hair from his face, she continued. “Tell me you never thought of running from them, of taking everything they have and disappearing.” She continued to press. “Tell me you never hated them or that you never hated me, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Sandor couldn’t. If he did it would be a lie, and she knew that. The blues eyes that had looked at everything the Lannisters owned with wonder and childish surprise had lied to him. She had been calculating and methodical with everything.

She was good. Even he hadn’t see it.

“It wasn’t all a lie. You know that.” The feel of her lips against his was barely there, the faintest of touches. “I meant what I said. Did you?”

He tried to move from her touch, to dislodge himself from here, and maybe escape the room. Take the car and leave her here. It was simple enough plan. 

“ _I could take you from here. Just tell me and I’ll do it. We could run away, take everything they have, and disappear._ ” They were his words, drunken and rage filled words, but they were his. And coming out of her mouth, they were just as pathetic as when he had said them. “So, now I’m asking,” Sansa said against his lips, “did you mean it?”

He gave her his answer. 

 


End file.
